Our Days are Numbered

We got C.C. a blank wall calendar for Christmas—the page above each calendar page was pure white so that she could draw whatever she liked.  She sat on her knees, hunched over it on the dining room table, her markers spread around her.  “What happens in February, Mama?” she would ask me.  “Valentine’s Day,” I would say and she would incorporate whatever holiday or other theme into her drawing.  It has a dinosaur theme, of course.  May, the Mother’s Day month, shows a mother Maiasaura and her baby in a next.  Maiasaura means “good mother dinosaur” and C.C. says the mama is me and the baby is her.

Today we turned the page from May to June.  C.C. had drawn an airplane with a Spinosaurus pilot, flying all of us away from Barcelona.  As it turns out, we don’t leave until July 1, but turning that calendar page did really make something shift inside me.  Now I can see all of the days we have left on one calendar page.  The kids have two weeks left of school.  It sounds trite, but the past six months have absolutely flown.  I finally feel as though I live here.  I have friends, my work is going well, I know where to buy chocolate chips, peanut butter, and drugstore mascara.

So I have started to shut down various threads that have been a constant for me this year.  A couple of weeks ago, as I looked at my schedule and thought about all of the travel I had left, the guests yet to come, the moving arrangements that needed to be made, I realized I needed to end my Spanish lessons.  So I’ve already said goodbye to Sylvia, who has been my tutor since I stopped going to the intensive, four hour per day school.

I love my life in Brooklyn, and I miss my friends and family, but a part of me wishes I had more time here.  Just a little—one more year, maybe.

Photo of the Day

Picnic in the Park

Alec had made plans for us to meet up with some Mexican friends in the Parque de la Ciutadella yesterday.  We don’t go there very often, and I don’t know why, because it’s beautiful and not so hard to get to.  I baked salty caramel brownies, Alec and Jody made sandwiches and, after what seemed like forever, we made it out the door.  Alec went by car with C.C., Milo and Peter, while Jody, Matt, Zadie and I went by public transit.

The day was gorgeous—bright, hot sun, but cooler and dry in the shade.  When we got to the park, we discovered that a big festival was going on—something called Tamborinada. The main arteries of the park were lined with white tents full of activities and information.  There were bands, puppet shows and crafts.  We found our friends, and a square of shaded green in which to park our blankets.  The boys kicked a soccer ball and C.C., who had brought a long stick she had found in the park behind our house, practiced her jousting.  She is very much into all things medieval these days.  In fact, she would like us to find her a medieval-themed summer camp for when we get back to New York.  Unlikely.

We ate and chatted.  Zadie lounged in her portable bed, and then got passed around from person to person.  As part of the festival, someone had set up a whole series of musical instruments created from everyday objects—rubber boots, pan lids, brooms.  I loved it, and so did the kids.  After leaving most of the remaining brownies with our friends, and giving away Milo’s old scooter to one of our friends’ kids, we packed up and went to the pool.  Everyone was hot, we had promised the kids a swim sometime during the weekend, and Zadie had never been swimming before—we all wanted to be there for it.

The water felt good—Zadie got floated around the Jacuzzi part of the pool and chilled.  Jody, Alec, C.C., and Milo played chicken.  I lay on one of the thermal lounges and closed my eyes.  By the time we got home, Milo was ready to pass out.  He had had a 24-hour play date that included staying up late to watch the Barca final, and had been going nonstop all day.  Not a problem, really, except that he left this morning for the Kindergarten/first grade overnight trip.  He will rally, I’m sure, but his wagon was dragging a little this morning as he headed out the door.

Photos of the Day

El Valor de Tenir Valors

When Barca on the La Liga championship a couple of weeks ago and fans gathered at the stadium to cheer their team, the players threw bell peppers into the stands.  The players were wearing navy blue t-shirts with a red and a blue pepper printed on the back, along with the words “El Valor de Tenir Valors.”  “Valor” means courage or values in Spanish.  The words on the shirt are in Catalan, but in this case there is enough similarity to Spanish, so the phrase means something like “The courage to have values” or “The value of having values.”

The Monday following the rua, or parade, I asked my Spanish teacher, Sylvia, what the peppers were all about.  She explained that tenir pebrots—“to have peppers”—in Catalan, means to be gutsy.   In Spanish you would say tener cojones—“to have balls”, as in “That team is really ballsy” or “He has a lot of balls…”.  You wouldn’t literally translate pebrots to pimientos in Spanish or peppers in English. 

In the two weeks between the La Liga victory and last night’s Champions League final against Manchester United at Wembley Stadium, fans wearing the pepprer t-shirt could be spotted everywhere.  I snagged myself one at the FCBotiga at the airport.  Jody and I spotted a sweet shop that created windows to celebrate the team (see photo below).

Yesterday evening I left Alec with C.C., Milo, Zadie, and Milo’s best friend Peter as I zipped to the airport to pick up Matt and Jody from their Paris trip.  Their flight got in at 8:10 and the game started at 8:45.  We made it back just in time for the start of the game.  I had made some patatas bravas, and we put out cheese and a delicious and beautiful salmon tart that Jody and Matt brought back from Paris.  I opened a bottle of cava and we settled in to watch the game.  Barca seemed off their rhythm at first—they didn’t have possession of the ball as much as they normally do, and their quick, short passing dance just wasn’t happening.  It looked as though Mann U had their number.  But it didn’t take long for Barca to get back on track.  Pedro scored a goal off of a beautiful, long pass from Xavi in the 27^th minute.  Then Manchester United answered with a goal by Wayne Rooney in the 34^th—which, as it turns out, was offsides.  Not surprisingly, today’s Mundo Deportivo is entirely devoted to the game. The still frames published that depict the moments before and after the goal make it quite clear.  The teams went to the locker room with the game tied, 1-1.

When they returned to the field, Barca looked different—they quickly took control of the game.  Messi took a short pass from Iniesta and scored a beautiful goal that whizzed just to the right of Manchester United’s goalie.  In minute 69, Barca buried their opponent when Villa scored. 

After the game, Sir Alex Ferguson—who coaches Manchester United and has won 19 titles over the course of his long and successful career—said he had never coached against such a tremendous team.  It was a beautiful game, watching Barca play the beautiful game.  And, as we begin to prepare to leave Barcelona, somehow a fitting end, marking the end of a year that feels victorious in so many ways.

Photo of the Day